


Bright and (Not Too) Early (the Android remix)

by kleinergruenerkaktus



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Anal Sex, Bad Jokes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-19 11:32:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14236374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kleinergruenerkaktus/pseuds/kleinergruenerkaktus
Summary: The start of training camp is the time for new season's resolutions. So when Gemma asks “Anything else I should know?” and Tanner, as per usual, goes “Nah”, Jeff pipes up with “What about your premature ejaculation thing?”“FUCK YOU, Jeff,” goes Tanner.“His what?” goes Gemma.“Jesus Christ, Carts,” goes Tyler, who finished his medical like an hour ago and has a habit of hanging around the shop whenever Tanner gets work done. “Privacy?!”“Shoulda made me sign an NDA last night,” shrugs Jeff. “Don’t get me wrong, I had a great time, but I’m just saying. That’s gotta be a bug or something. Why not just get it fixed?”





	Bright and (Not Too) Early (the Android remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [othersideofthis (hikaru)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikaru/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Bright and Early](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11899491) by [othersideofthis (hikaru)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikaru/pseuds/othersideofthis). 



> My thanks to othersideofthis for letting me play with this story! I know _nothing_ about the Kings, fanon-wise, so this was a fun challenge for me. Apologies if the way I wrote these guys feels OOC: I've had android AU on the brain lately, and it felt like a good solution to not knowing these characters would be to just make them robots. I'll let you be the judge of whether it worked.
> 
> The basic premise of this fic is that Jeff shares private and intimate information about Tanner with their technician, without Tanner's permission: in this AU, that is considered mildly obnoxious, rather than (as it would IRL) unacceptable. If you don't hold with that, this fic may not be your cup of tea.

Pre-season, training camp. A time of year that tastes of sunscreen, sweat and new gear, broiled exhaust fumes and chlorine, mineral oil, freshly-sharpened skates and barbecue. Most people mark their fresh starts and resolutions at the coldest, darkest time of year: in hockey, that moment falls on the apex of summer. Jeff’s human teammates always seem to struggle with that transition the first few days of camp, insisting that their bodies are in ‘beach mode’ and that they need a minute to acclimate back to ‘rink mode’, whatever that is. From where Jeff’s sitting, this team is never really out of beach mode - most of them own property on the beach. Whatever team bonding they do, it literally always starts with grilling or pre-gaming on the beach. Everyone’s forever saying they want to learn how to surf, whether it’s December or July. But hey, Jeff’s not going to argue. For them, their brain is physically integrated into their body in a way that Jeff can’t relate to - like, it is _made of the same stuff,_ how crazy is that? 

He tries to be more mindful of that, now. Him and Mike, tearing it up in Philly - he didn’t realise the human guys couldn’t just switch between ‘party mode’ and ‘hockey mode’ like _that_. It always seemed like they could, back in Juniors, but it’s since been explained to Jeff that young humans are deceptive that way. They kid themselves that they can go clubbing every other night _and_ win games, which stops being true after approximately age 23 and/or any two-week stretch wherein that theory is tested consistently. Jeff might have figured that out on his own, if he hadn’t been too busy having fun. He tries not to dwell on remorse. But he has an A now. More of a mentoring role. For the ‘droids, especially, because it’s not just human kids that like to kid themselves.

The meat sacks are down the hall getting their medicals, so the ‘droids are in the tech shop for their first tune-up of the season. Jeff’s in the corner with one arm draped over the top of his head so Daisy can top up his oil, watching Tanner straddle a chair with cables sprouting from between his shoulder blades, dutifully answering Gemma’s questions as she taps around on the laptop she’s got hooked up to him - and he figures, hey, fresh start, when’s a better time. So when Gemma asks “Anything else I should know?” and Tanner, as per usual, goes “Nah”, Jeff pipes up with “What about your premature ejaculation thing?”

“FUCK YOU, Jeff,” goes Tanner, lifting his head from where he’d pillowed it on his forearms.

“His what?” goes Gemma.

“Jesus Christ, Carts,” goes Tyler, who finished his medical like an hour ago and has a habit of hanging around the shop whenever Tanner gets work done. “Privacy?!”

“Shoulda made me sign an NDA last night,” shrugs Jeff. “Don’t get me wrong, I had a great time, but I’m just saying. That’s gotta be a bug or something. Why not just get it fixed?”

“There is nothing _to_ fix,” Tyler says hotly. “Tanner’s great the way he -“

“Jeez, Oprah, I know, okay, on like a metaphysical - I dunno, whatever - level there is nothing wrong with him, but I’m talking about literally _software._ Getting an upgrade doesn’t mean you’re fucked up or that you’re a wuss.” Boom, there. Look at that, day one and he’s already imparted a nugget of wisdom he was especially keen on emphasising this season. All those fucking human players with their walk off the ice, spitting chiclets, ’tis but a scratch bullshit, and their android teammates are conditioned right along with them. Not that ‘droids are likely to get caught with enough oxy to flatten a moose, but you can just _ask for help,_ is what Jeff’s trying to say here. 

Tanner is still in diagnostic mode, so his psychophysiological response system is inactive, so he can’t blush. He makes up for it by scowling and giving Jeff both middle fingers. 

“Use your words, Pearsy,” Gemma chides. “What premature ejaculation thing?”

“What does it sound like?” Tanner snarks, shifting restlessly in the chair. “It’s no big deal, it’s just how I’m - tons of human guys are quick shooters, okay? I work around it. Not like it’s such a fucking inconvenience for anyone else, either,” he adds, shooting Jeff a poisonous glare.

“I just want to state for the record that I have zero complaints,” Tyler announces. He and Tanner smile at each other in a way that’s objectively adorable, if Daisy’s giggling “aww” is anything to go by.

“Good to know,” Gemma says absently, eyes fixed on her screen. “But Jeff’s right, you were definitely not designed that way. How long has this been an issue? Why have you never brought it up before?”

(“You’re all done,” Daisy murmurs. Jeff’s not going anywhere. He doesn’t eat, but some popcorn would be nice right now.)

“Juniors,” Tanner says miserably, meaning there’s never been a time when it _wasn’t_ an issue. Androids take a few years to reach sexual maturation - depends on the model, really. Tanner comes from the same line of early nineties Ontario designs as Tyler Seguin and Taylor Hall, when speed increasingly became the priority. In all aspects of development, evidently: from what Jeff’s heard, the OHL’s become a veritable fuck-bonanza, a one-stop shop for STDs and kink. Jeff doesn’t wanna be _that_ guy, harping on later generations - not like they can help how they were built, anyway - but earlier isn’t always better. There’s a lot to be said for patience, and taking the time to teach your body pleasure the way you teach it plays. One big advantage of androids is that they are very fast learners, but the downside of that is that it is an absolute bitch to break them of bad habits. Worst-case scenario, you’ll have to restore that module to factory settings. Tanner is unlikely to go for a fix that also wipes his entire sexual history. Jeff suddenly doesn’t feel quite as smug about ratting him out.

“None of _them_ had any stamina, either!” Tanner is now saying defensively. Tyler vigorously nods along. “You’d give them a blowie and it was all over in like, forty seconds. I thought I’d eventually start lasting longer.”

“To be fair,” says Jeff, “you give spectacular head.”

“Thanks,” says Tanner, looking slightly mollified. “But not back then, I didn’t. I was just figuring it out as I went.”

“Did you, or did you not, have a gag reflex and a need to breathe?”

“I did not.”

“Then your blow jobs were, 100% guarantee, the best blow jobs any of those acne-ridden teenagers have ever had by a country mile.”

“Can confirm,” says Tyler, and gets another sappy smile as a reward.

“Yup, there’s a bug alright,” Gemma declares suddenly. “That your OS developers totally put out a patch for in 2011, says right here. It wasn’t widespread enough to include it in their regular update package, but you should have got a notification for it.”

“Uh,” goes Tanner.

“You never installed it, did you.”

“They always want you to stop everything you’re doing,” Tanner mutters resentfully. 

“Well, better late than never. Okay, this is gonna require a reboot, so Tyler, shoo. Go get us some Starbucks. We deserve it.” Gemma never lets humans see them when they’re powered down. Jeff’s grateful - he’s seen teammates unconscious on the ice, and it freaks him out. Tyler doesn’t need to see his lover like that: stone-limbed, dead behind the eyes.

It only takes a few minutes to install though, and then Tanner whirrs back to life with a calm, “OHL Industries, ID 1008199218389, left-handed model number 70. Tanner Pearson.”

“Hey Tanner, what time is it?” asks Jeff.

“Five past Crawford?”

“Atta boy.”

Gemma rolls towards them on her work stool, while Daisy starts closing up Tanner’s back panel. “Okay, that should fix the root cause, but you know the drill. Practice, practice, practice.”

Jeff lets out such a dramatic, exasperated groan that he gets even Daisy to smile. _“Ugggh._ More work? Fuck, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Reluctantly, Tanner starts to grin as well. “Oh no, I’m going to have to do _so much fucking.”_

“Where are we even going to find the _time.”_

“Hey, who said anything about you? You betrayed me, you haven’t deserved a piece of this.”

“If it wasn’t for me you’d still be walking around with an embarrassing bug you’re too lazy to fix. You’ll thank me soon enough, punk.”

“Alright, Carter, I’ve heard enough about your sexual prowess today to last me the rest of the season. We get it, you’re a stud. Real men don’t need to brag, you know,” says Gemma.

“But I’m not a real man. I’m _better,”_ Jeff leers. “Wanna see?”

“I’ve seen it already,” Gemma says dryly. “I’ll stick with my vibrator. It’s more hung than you, _and_ has a better personality. Pretty sure it scores more, too.” Daisy smothers a cough that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. Years ago, that might have stung a little, but not now. He likes the give-and-go with the techs, the casual savagery that feels like team.

“Maybe this will be like, a huge reality check for you, Jeff,” says Tyler, smoothly injecting himself back into the room and the conversation carrying a pair of giant coffee cups, of which he is swiftly relieved by two sets of grabby hands. “You thought you were hot stuff in the bedroom, but now you’ll have to work like three times as hard to make him come.”

“Oh my god,” Tanner tells him as he interlaces his fingers and stretches his arms above his head, twisting his back experimentally. “Why did you say that? You basically just dared him.”

“Is there an empty room we can use?” Jeff asks the techs. Caffeinated and content, they will usually enable Jeff’s shenanigans so long as he doesn’t blow a fuse. Gemma nods: “Hardware storage room should still be open. Let me know how it goes, yeah?”

“No!” Tanner yelps. Tyler, who for a human can sometimes be unusually quick to get with the program, is already pulling him out of his chair with intent.

“Oh please, like there’s any mystery-”

“Thanks, see you later,” calls Jeff before the door swings shut behind them. They actually run to the storage room, two doors down the corridor. Training camp has a way of making you feel giddy, brand-new, hungry: they didn’t even make it past the front hall last night, Jeff pushing Tanner up against the door, kissing him hard and pushing a thigh between his legs for him to grind against. Tanner had set what Jeff was sure had to be his personal speed record for zero to orgasm. Which is flattering, and weirdly hot in its own way, but Tanner always looks disappointed when it happens, no matter how often he and Tyler promise him they don’t mind. Jeff is mostly looking forward to getting that crestfallen look off his face.

Mostly.

“Gonna fuck you,” he tells Tanner as he hustles him into the storage room, crowding against him from behind. “Fuck you so good.”

“You better,” goes Tyler, “After what you did. Sharing personal data with a third party without permission, isn’t that against some kind of robot code of ethics?”

“Shut up, Tyler,” says Tanner, already sounding halfway there. There’s zero space, just tall metal shelf racks full of cables and spare parts; over Tanner’s shoulder, Jeff sees a large container labeled CARTER - LIGAMENT FIBERS. He races through feasible scenarios, arranging their bodies in the scant available space like interlocking Tetris pieces. They could -

“Tanner sandwich,” Tyler sing-songs, “Tanner sandwich, Tanner sandwich!” You know what? Good idea. They never really get to do that, or rather, they do, but only for a minute tops. Judging by Tanner’s red ears and uncertain expression, he’s having the same thought. “Tyler, get down,” Jeff instructs him, “You suck him off, I’ll fuck him.”

“Oh fuck,” says Tanner, scrabbling around a bit helplessly for support. Tyler wriggles down to his knees in the tiny corner between the shelf and the back wall, complaining “This isn’t comfortable,” even as he’s pulling down Tanner’s shorts. Tanner makes this amazing noise when Jeff and Tyler get their hands on him, groping his thighs and balls and ass: this panicky little groan, like he’s scared by how good it feels. “Sshhhh,” soothes Tyler, and Jeff just mouths at his neck.

“We haven’t even made out,” Tanner objects, in some nonsensical, futile attempt to slow things down. 

“Later,” says Jeff, shoving at his own pants to get his cock out. Lucky that Daisy just re-topped his oil: he’s got plenty of slick to work with, and he spreads it around himself with one hand while holding Tanner pressed against him with the other. “We don’t have time, team lunch is in fifteen minutes.” 

“Well jeez, I don’t know if I can make that kind of deadline,” Tanner says, breathlessly sarcastic, then keens and tenses up. Jeff knows without looking that Tyler has taken him in his mouth. He feels his thoughts take on that almost furious, desire-fuelled tunnel-vision that Mike always used to tease him for, the ‘killer bot’ single-mindedness of just wanting to score, to dance, to _fuck._

Thank god it’s Tanner, whose body might not have been made for this the way some other ‘droids are - programmed to think and want just one thing, designed with all sorts of extra holes and appendages and huge, limpid eyes - but who is ready for him, strong and indestructible. Jeff stuffs the head of his cock in and _thrusts._

“Oh, _ohh_ , unh,” goes Tanner, shuddering through his whole body. Normally, this would be it for him. He’s three inches shorter than Jeff, which forces him up on his toes and to hang on to the shelves for dear life: Jeff plants his feet, wraps his arms around Tanner’s chest, and hooks his chin over his shoulder so he can look down at where Tyler is sucking him like there’s a prize to be won. Distantly, Jeff feels proud of Tanner for not coming yet, and smugly satisfied about his intervention - but mostly he feels an urgent, feral need to fuck Tanner until they both come, asap. He sets a fast pace, the tight snap of his hips making a lewd slapping noise that punctuates Tanner’s stream of inarticulate noises and reverberates through the shelves, and jerking Tanner forward hard enough that Tyler takes his mouth away and uses it to quiz him on his newly installed endurance.

“How does it feel, babe?” he asks, breathless and raspy, as he jerks his smooth, spit-shiny dick. Tanner sobs in reply: “I can’t, I can’t, oh _fuck,_ oh,”

“Can’t hold out, or can’t come?”

“Please, _please,_ I can’t -“ Jeff speeds up, tries to fuck him as hard and fast as he can: Tanner nearly screams. He’s tight and hot and slick and trying to move into Jeff’s thrusts even though it’s all he can do to keep his balance, and Jeff has missed this, fuck, he missed them both, he wants, he _needs_ to come, but Tanner first, Tanner first, Tanner -

\- clenches all over and screams for real. The squeeze of his ass around Jeff’s cock is almost vicious, like being kicked down the stairs into orgasm: like he can taste the miniature lightning bolt that races from the base of his spine to his eyes squeezing shut and his mouth gaping open, a seizure, an incredible feat of engineering. Tanner shakes in his arms, but doesn’t sag. Their kind don’t go weak in the knees.

“Oh my god,” he does say, in a dazed, wondering voice, once Jeff has pulled out.

“It worked!” beams Tyler, still on his knees.

“It worked,” Tanner repeats, and then turns around and hugs Jeff, long and tight. _“Thank you.”_

Jeff can’t resist. “Told you so.”

“You’re really lucky you’re so good at sex,” Tanner tells him. “Because you’re a total pain in the ass.”

“Ayyyyyy,” goes Tyler. “Speaking of which, little help, here?”

-

“Hey, Daisy,” Jeff says nearly three days later, “could you, uh. My oil’s running a bit low.”

Daisy looks up from the soldering bench and flips her visor up. After a moment, she takes a breath and says, still not very loudly but with a voice that doesn’t quiver: “Fuck off, Carter, I’m busy. Get one of your boy toys to fill you up.”

Her pleased, mischievous grin when Jeff and Gemma break into spontaneously applause makes his entire fucking day. It’s going to be a hell of a good season.


End file.
